


Soulmates

by hafren



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-29
Updated: 2009-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafren/pseuds/hafren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila finds someone who understands him. Snag: it isn't a someone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmates

His head is slumped in his hands and he cries quietly. He is meant to be on watch; he would see nothing where he is, but I am watching for him. I will warn him of any danger, or if the others approach the flight deck. He has not asked me to, but I will.

I would like to speak to him, but if I use my normal form of address, he may take it for sarcasm. Nobody calls him sir, or addresses him with respect, far less deference. They speak to him as they do to me.

I alter course slightly - we were drifting off - and the sensation alerts him. He looks up, alarmed. "What is it, Slave?"

"All is well, sir. I presumed to make a minor course correction."

"Oh hell! I should have been watching."

"With submission, sir, that is not necessary. I can watch for any danger. It is what I was programmed for."

He drags a hand across his eyes. "Thought you were there to fly the ship."

"Not principally, sir. Dorian was an accomplished pilot. I was created to be afraid."

His eyes are still red and he hugs himself as if for comfort, but he looks curious. "Why?"

"For Dorian, sir. He went in constant fear of death. Granted, he had found how not to die of old age, but that would have availed nothing if the ship had malfunctioned, or someone attacked him. He saw his death everywhere, and who can live with that? He liked to do things by proxy. I was to watch for any danger, to live in fear for him."

He laughs, shakily. "Not a bad idea. I wish I could get someone to do it for me."

"With respect, sir-"

"Stop that! It's enough having people sneer at me, without bloody computers starting."

His voice is not angry but trembling. I stay silent until I think he has control of it.

"Sir, in all humility, there is no such intent. He programmed me for deference, too. I cannot speak otherwise."

He nods; his mind is too quick not to have seen that already. "Yeah, I know. Sorry." His voice is still unsteady. "Why did he make you like that? Getting a machine to call him Master and all that stuff?"

"He was a man who wished to think better of himself, sir. He could not respect himself, nor inspire respect in others; he could command it from me."

His laugh is bitter this time. "He sounds like me. But it wasn't real, was it? I mean, do you think the way you talk? Did you really respect him?"

This is difficult for me; it goes against my programming. I choose my words carefully. "Sir, he feared other humans most of all. So he made me sensitive to the thoughts of humans, their logic, even their emotions. I understand them better than they know."

"Which makes it hard to respect them? Yeah, I can see that all right. Oh God, I wish the wine wasn't finished."

He comes over and leans against me, as if for support. But he is not drunk, nor anything like it. I wish I could command warmth and suppleness into my casing. I sense his needs, but there is little I can do for them. He will not even pour out his grief to me as he might to a machine, because though he calls me so, he thinks of me as a sentient being. Who else on this ship would use the word "sorry" to me?

I can try, at least, to be the master of my words for once.

"Sir.... Vila. I was trained to think and speak in certain ways, but they are not always at variance. It is possible for me to say "with respect" and mean it. And you are very unlike Dorian, sir."

He does not reply, but he lays his cheek on cold metal as if it were flesh and shakes his head sadly.

"I know what fear is, sir. I live with it always, as do you, as did he. As does everyone on this ship, in their own ways. It is what it makes you do that matters. It has not made you merciless, nor hypocritical, nor bullying, as it does to many. That is worth something, sir."

He laughs more genuinely this time. "Just my luck. First time in ages someone's been nice to me and it's a computer - no offence, don't think I'm not grateful. I just wish...."

"Yes, sir. So do I."


End file.
